Running With Scissors
by Something Tangled
Summary: Kisaragi Yuffie likes to run with scissors. And, on another note, being with Vincent Valentine. VxY, a oneshot, pending series. Read and review.


**Title: **_Running With Scissors_

**Author: **Something Tangled

**Rating: **PG for language.

**Pairing: **Vincent x Yuffie

**Summary: **Vincent tries to convince Yuffie to reconsider choosing to have a relationship with him because he's dangerous and a bad choice for Lord of Wutai-to-be. Yuffie, being Yuffie, argues.

**Note: **Written at one in the morning on the effects of caffeine and listening to Eisley on my iPod. Don't expect it to be good. If Vincent seems out of character, keep in mind that this fic takes place at least three years after _Final Fantasy VII, _and both he and Yuffie have been in a long-standing relationship. I wanted to write something that didn't involve the process of them falling in love—that's something for you to figure out yourself—but an actual fic about them being already in a relationship. My first V/Y and _FFVII_ fic. Run and hide.

**Disclaimer: **_Vincent Valentine and Yuffie Kisaragi belong to Square(soft/-Enix, take your pick). I own nothing.

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**Running With Scissors**

by Something Tangled

"You shouldn't be doing this."

Kisaragi Yuffie tilted her head and looked at him with delicate eyebrows raised. He tried to make his tone blankly composed, but he knew she could tell otherwise—vague undertones of that _something _were therethe things that let her know that deep down inside he didn't want her to believe his warnings.

"Let me ask you something, Vinnie mah dahling." Small, soft hands placed themselves on his shoulders. "Have I ever done anything I shouldn't do?"

"…."

Grey eyes twinkled in amusement. "Answer the question."

"Have you ever done anything you should actually do?" he answered quietly, crimson eyes making her insides fizz in delirious adoration, lightheadedly wonderful. He had a weird way of arousing any breed of emotion in her, in any time, any place, anywhere. Just sic the crimson eyes on her, and she was a goner.

"Exactly, Vincent. I don't do what I'm supposed to. _Ever._ Why start now?"

"It's never too late to kill a bad habit," answered the man stubbornly. Her hands came to run along his cheek, soft fingertips on porcelain, translucent skin. His expression was dead serious, but his eyes—those eyes—betrayed him, because she wasn't stupid; she saw the longing shining through the shifting, permanent darkness.

"Well," she said absently, somewhat distracted by the hue of his eyes, "I don't want to."

Vincent blinked; she was free. He shook his head, silken ebony hair falling out of place to cover one of his eyes. Annoyed, he jerked his head; it fell back into place. "You are obstinately innocent."

"You know you like it. And don't talk, because you're a dork with a gun who has a serious guilt complex," she retorted. He sighed.

"You're putting yourself in danger, you know," he warned her. The sparkle of amusement in his eyes was gone, replaced by grave concern—for _her_, because of _him_. "It would be much easier to comply with your father's wishes and marry a respectful Wutain man with a rich background and keen mind."

"Of course it would." She tilted her head at him, shifting to sit sideways on his lap, leaning her head against his shoulder. His arms moved to hold her close to his chest; her hands toyed with his hair. "And we could go popping out babies like that, _viola_! New heirs to the throne. And then someday when I'm an old hag, I'll die completely unsatisfied with my life and thinking, '_I wonder what the hell Vincent is doing right now'. _Then I'll croak and be gone."

"…That would be unfortunate."

"No shit. And it won't be much better for you. You'll be waking up every morning and going into the kitchen and when you put your waffles in the toaster, you'll be reminded of me. _Every_. _Day_. But I'll be hundreds and hundreds of miles away. Thinking of you. Or dead. But still thinking of you."

"…"

"Stories of how much life's going to be a bitch aside, I'm not willing to give this—_us_—up because of some slight issues that will work themselves out in due time. Fate will roll its dice and move us up or down along the game board. Leviathan'll see us through somehow. I don't see why you're willing to stop now that we've started."

"Because I happen to be an inhuman monster who has a strange obsession with a certain ninja in line to be leader of one of the world's most historically colored empires. And said obsession prompts me to want the best for this ninja, therefore, I am willing to remove myself from the picture if it is in her best interest." He sounded determined, but she could hear the distinct sadness in his voice at thinking such a fate.

"But it's _not_. Can't you get it, Vincent? Without you, I'm pretty much a pile of Kisaragi-gene-_goo_, whose unhappiness at lack of _lurve_ will cause her to be a crappy leader for her people. So there's more than one person suffering here." _How 'bout them apples?_

He was silent as she continued to toy absently with the strands of his hair. When she decided he wasn't going to say anything, she moved to sit on his lap, hands on either side of his face, legs dangling on the other side of the kitchen chair.

"I think you're underestimating me, here," she told him, her voice soft. His eyes met hers, uncomprehending; his brow furrowed. "I don't think you're dangerous. I _know_ you're not dangerous. I can't make you think anything about yourself, but I know for a fact that you're not a monster or some pathetic excuse of living like you say you are, okay?" He opened his mouth to contradict her, but she placed her finger to his lips—_Leviathan, they were soft and warm_—and continued. "And if you are dangerous, I can take care of myself better than you think thankyouverymuch. And no, you are not Godo's ideal suitor or Lord-to-be, but Godo's not the one who'll be leading the city next, and his opinion has never mattered to be, so there. All the same, Godo knows you're a good man; he told me so, awhile back—actually it was kinda random, all of a sudden we were talking about the Dojo and then he was like '_hey, that Valentine guy is a decent man'_—and hey, look, I'm rambling." She bit her lip and rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "Point being—you're not as bad as you think you are."

"I may be a "_decent man_", but that does not change the fact that I'm still dangerous."

She moaned and slapped her forehead dramatically. Covering her eyes as a frown curved on her lips, she moved her fingers, her eye peeking out through the crack in her hands.

"Vincent."

"Yes?"

"I like running with scissors."

He looked at her like she had eight eyes. "Fascinating," he said dryly.

"Not literally, you _dork_. It's a meta-thingy. Running with scissors is dangerous. I _like_ doing dangerous things. They make me happy. And when push comes to shove, dangerous things have got me through my life from the day I was born." She paused. "And besides, if I were to marry another one of my dad's suitors who _wasn't_ dangerous, I'll probably be _so_ desperate for some form of danger that I'll go flinging myself off of pagodas and setting myself on fire, which is all the more dangerous than _ten of you combined_—"

She was cut off as he moved to close the space between them; lips colliding in a harsh kiss with intentions to silence her and show he'd admit defeat. Satisfied, she moved forward to melt into him the way she always did, and his gloved hands moved along her back, gentle and slow. He pulled back from her, hovering an inch away from her face, just far enough to get a good look at her.

"You're insubordinate to the point of it being a _disease_," he informed her, his voice faintly tinted with exasperation.

"But you wouldn't have it any other way, would you?" she brushed her mouth against his, smugness playing across her face.

"No," Vincent admitted quietly as her long lashes blinked against his skin. "I would not."

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I have this sinking fear that Vincent is out of character even though I'm writing as he and Yuffie already in a relationship, so all social and personal boundaries are pretty much down. But it's still irking me.

This was written as a oneshot, buta part of me wants to turn it into a collection of oneshots. If you like it, I'll continue, but if not, I'll rid myself of the _FFVII_ fandom for your sake. XD

Review please. Constructive criticism welcomed.


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